


Captain Moir and the Pumpkin Bucket of Fate

by OnlySkyAboveMe



Series: Dance the skies (on laughter-silvered wings) [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Halloween, On second thought… maybe only light smut… pre-smut smut?, Pilots!AU, Trick or Treating, fluff (oh so very much of it), smut (I know! Me? Smut?!), snot (a bit too much of that)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2021-01-30 14:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySkyAboveMe/pseuds/OnlySkyAboveMe
Summary: In which our favourite pilots (and their little one) go trick or treating.
Relationships: Scott Moir & Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Series: Dance the skies (on laughter-silvered wings) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544374
Kudos: 28





	Captain Moir and the Pumpkin Bucket of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as Chapter 6 of the 'something wicked this way comes' collaboration. I wanted to add it to a series as this universe is something I would quite like to return to. I'm not looking for extra comments or kudos, I just want everything to be in the same place.

“Look Grandma! I’m flying!”

Scott chuckles as he glides across the rink towards his mother holding Oscar, the three-year-old’s arms outstretched as he soars through the cold air, giggling away. Scott doesn’t think he could possibly tire of hearing that sound, nor seeing the look of joy on Alma’s face. He takes neither thing for granted and is thankful every day that he has so many precious people in his life.

He must have a pensive look on his face as he comes to a graceful stop at the boards, because his mother places her hand gently on his arm and asks him if he’s okay. He nods affirmatively and then yawns.

“Tired?” she asks. “Early start with this one?” She strokes her knuckles over Oscar’s rosy cheek and adjusts the strap of his helmet.

“Nah, this champ slept past seven for the first time in months.” He puts his hand out for a high five, which Oscar eagerly returns. “It was his mother,” he explains, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Ah, yes. Ottawa hops today?” Alma knows the schedules almost as well as he does now, and is well aware that days such as this mean Tessa’s alarm going off not long after four in the morning.

“Yep, four hops today, and with a new first officer.”

“I look forward to hearing about it later,” says Alma. Scott chuckles to himself over his mother’s love for Tessa’s ‘cockpit confessionals’ and winces a little to himself when he remembers the evening not long after their engagement that his mother had pressed Tessa for every detail on their first day together in the cockpit. “You’re still coming over for hot chocolate after trick or treating, right? Your father has procured a rather nice whiskey to lace it with this year.”

Scott scratches at the back of his neck. “But there’ll be non-alcoholic stuff too, right?” he checks.

“Of course there will be, dear. We’ve got plenty of kids coming and they won’t be happy if the grown-ups get hot chocolate and they don’t.” She eyes him carefully, as if she’s trying to work something out and he swiftly changes the subject, prompting Oscar to tell her about what he did at play group that morning, all three of them fully engaged as he tells them all about it.

“Oh da-, I mean, oh gosh!” Scott catches himself a short while later as he spies the clock on the scoreboard at the other side of the rink, and he checks his watch to be sure he’s not seeing things. “We’ve got to go, little man.” Scott leaves Oscar sitting on top of the boards with Alma and makes his way to the exit of the ice.

“No, Grandma,” Oscar whines, sadly, as Alma lifts him down from the boards and onto a bench. “I wanna keep skating, I want Daddy to make me fly again!”

He feels sorry for the kid; he completely understands that constant desire to fly around the ice with the cool wind in your hair. Scott sits down on the bench next to his son and carefully scrapes the ice off his blades and gives his mom an appreciative smile as she does the same for Oscar. “But we have to go and get Mommy, Oscar,” he reminds him. “From the airport, remember?”

At the mention of the magic A word Oscar immediately brightens, then hurriedly bends down to grapple with the laces on his skates, nearly headbutting his grandmother in the process.

“Skates off, Grandma,” he says impatiently, but without malice. 

“Oscar,” says Scott, in a gentle but firm tone. “That’s not how we ask for help is it?” He levels his son with a look and a raised eyebrow he hopes his wife would be proud of, and Oscar’s cheeks pink a little.

“Can you help me with my skates please, Grandma?” he asks softly. He sniffs mightily, not because he’s upset, but because the cold of the rink has caused his already disgustingly runny nose to run even more profusely. Scott whips a wad of clean tissue out of his pocket and moves quickly to stop the snot as it tries to journey from his son’s nose to his mother’s unwitting bent head. Unaware of her near (and horribly gross) fate, Alma laughs as she makes quick work of Oscar’s tiny hockey skates and helps him on with the cute yellow loafers he’s been smitten with since the end of summer and which will soon be too cold to wear again.

Scott’s barely got his own shoes on his feet before Oscar starts tugging on his sleeve, eager to leave.

“Planes, Daddy, we’ve gotta see the planes!”

“You better hope I don’t tell your mother you said that,” says Scott, hauling his son into his arms and offer his hand to his mother as she stands from her kneeling position on the floor. He kisses her on the cheek and Oscar blows her a snotty kiss of his own – definitely the preferable option right now.

He thanks his mother as she hands him their coats and bags. “See you later for hot chocolate!” he calls over his shoulder as he dashes out of the rink to go and pick up Tessa.

**

“Oscar! Stay where Daddy can see you, bud,” Scott calls across the concourse after his son, who is running over towards the windows that overlook the runway, wasting no time in pressing his snotty nose and the spit-soaked blanket he carries everywhere with him up against the glass. Scott sighs and looks over at Magdalena, the kindly cleaning lady he often bumps into here around this time, offering her an apologetic shrug which she returns with an affectionate one of her own before going over to Oscar and greeting him with a high five. She’s wearing a pointed black hat in honour of the day and Scott notices a traditional wooden broom and a plush black cat on her cleaning trolley.

Keeping an eye on his son at the windows he strikes up a brief conversation with the woman, handing her the flyer for CanSkate beginner courses at the skating club, which she’d enquired about a couple of weeks ago when he’d last seen her at this time and had been carrying in his coat pocket ever since. He wishes her a happy Halloween as she continues on her way and heads over to join Oscar at the expansive wall of glass.

“Mommy’s plane?” asks Oscar as Scott crouches down next to him, pulling out another tissue to wipe his little nose. He’s pointing at the nearest aircraft, its black tail proudly bearing Air Canada’s familiar red maple leaf.

Scott smiles at his bright, plane-mad son. “Maybe that one,” he says, tucking Oscar’s sandy locks behind his ear and out of his face. “Or maybe it’s that one over there?” He points to a different plane, having spotted and recognised its tail number as Tessa’s (and if he regularly memorises her tail number and call sign and tracks them throughout the day on Flight Radar, well that’s just helpful in these situations).

The lack of ground activity around the plane indicates that his wife’s arrival should be immanent, but Scott stays put and watches the planes for a moment, following one of WestJet’s new fleet as it makes it way to the end of the runway. His fingers twitch as it hurtles along in front of him before soaring smoothly into the air, and he keeps his gaze on it until it disappears into the clouds in the late afternoon sky. 

He misses it sometimes, that part of his life, the freedom of soaring in the azure expanse of the atmosphere above them. His hand comes to twist the wedding ring on his finger, and he thinks back to the almost full year between their wedding and Oscar’s birth, about how much he missed flying with Tessa in particular, their marriage meaning they were no longer permitted to take to the skies together. It didn’t take him long to conclude that it was better to be on the ground rather than in the skies without her by his side.

He would trade it all over again, though, for what he has now. Supporting his wife in her career and getting to spend every magical day with his son since his arrival into their lives. It’s great to know that everything he thought he ever wanted turned out to be just that. The satisfaction of falling asleep each night (or, well, six out of seven nights a week due to rotas) next to the love of his life and waking up to his son’s eager voice asking if it’s time to go yet. 

And it is always go, go, go! Playgroups, music classes, Mommy (Daddy) and me dance, and CanSkate taster courses. Precious time spent with his own mother coaching at his hometown rink – from little kids swamped by their new hockey gear to the handful of teenagers working through compulsory dance patterns and double jumps.

It hasn’t always been easy, this life they’ve made for themselves. Juggling their schedules at the beginning so they could actually see one another after many weeks passing like ships in the night. Those multiple instances of sleep regression where Scott was sequestered to Oscar’s floor because Tessa’s job legally required her to sleep. And then Tessa coming to their rescue at three in the morning when Oscar, and, quite frankly, Scott, just needed to be held and rocked in her arms.

He knows it’s probably been harder for Tessa, though, over the years, juggling expectations of what she wants and what she feels she  _ should  _ be, both as a Captain and as a mother. He still remembers clearly the day Tessa returned to work when Oscar was five months old. He’d wiped every tear from her cheeks in the car park of London airport before lifting her hat to press a kiss to her forehead. Oscar was fast asleep in the back seat after a night of screaming into Scott’s ear, so she had only dared to brush the gentlest kiss to the tiny boy’s knuckles before striding away from them into the departure hall. They’d cried into each other’s arms later that night as they talked about their days; Tessa recounting how emotional she’d found it to pour the milk she’d expressed down the drain in the pilot’s lounge bathroom, whilst Scott had become upset when there was no suitable place for him to change Oscar at the supermarket so had resorted to changing him in the trunk of the car, which more than one passer-by seemed to have an opinion about as their son screamed bloody murder as he was wont to do at that age.

Scott chuckles to himself thinking back to Oscar’s first year and a bit. How often he had video-called his wife when she was working a stopover in Montreal or Ottawa and asked why their son’s favourite sound couldn’t be silence like hers was? Rest assured, silence was now Scott’s too, though it’s that much sweeter if it’s sometimes accompanied by soft snores and snuffles through the crackle of the baby monitor.

It’s quiet now. He realises it with a jolt, and he turns to see the space next to him very much unoccupied by his son. He stands so quickly that his head spins a little.  _ He can’t have gotten far _ , he thinks, trying to remain calm. But before he can even begin to look around the vicinity he hears an excited, and all too familiar cry.

“Maaamaaa!”

**

Tessa is so engrossed in her conversation with Kaetlyn comparing the merits of Airbus versus Boeing in terms of cockpit specification that she doesn’t even register their arrival into the main terminal building until there’s a shrill shriek of “Maaamaaa!” and she staggers a little as her son comes barrelling into her legs.

She scoops him up immediately, kissing his cheek before settling him on her hip, masterfully dodging the corner of his blanket as it swings past her face.

“Hi, darling,” she says quietly, breathing in his scent and warmth and energy, her son’s presence truly grounding her back on solid earth.

“Mama,” her sweet boy murmurs contentedly as he rests his head on her shoulder, then begins eyeing Kaetlyn with wary interest. “Who is it?” he whispers, curiously.

“This is First Officer Kaetlyn Osmond,” she tells him. “She works with Mommy; we flew the plane together.”

At her explanation Oscar perks up, smiling widely at her. If he was a little older and had the vocabulary, she thinks he’d probably say that it was ‘cool’, much like Scott’s nieces do, but she knows that this particular smile on his face is one of excitement. “Will you say hi?” she asks him gently.

Oscar offers Kaetlyn a silent but enthusiastic wave, but Kaetlyn still looks perplexed.

“Kaetlyn, this is my son, Oscar,” she says, adjusting him on her hip, her growing boy already causing an ache in her back.

To her credit, Kaetlyn recovers herself, and waves back at Oscar with a genuine smile. “Hi Oscar,” she says kindly. “I like your sweatshirt.” She points to Oscar’s grey sweatshirt adorned with the face of a fluffy black dog. “That dog looks just like my puppy back home.”

Oscar rubs his hand over the soft material before shyly turning his head and resting it back on Tessa’s shoulder. She leans her head against his for a brief moment, inhaling his soothing scent as she glances back at Kaetlyn, whose expression is now unreadable, the epitome of the emoji with a horizontal line for a mouth. It fills her with anxiety, and she opens her mouth to begin to explain the situation, but Oscar interrupts her by suddenly lifting his head.

“Daddy!”

Barely a second later Tessa feels a familiar hand on her lower back and a comforting, warm presence at her side. It’s like her entire body sighs in contentment and reassurance.

_ Scott. _

“Hello Captain Moir,” he says quietly before leaning in to try and peck her on the lips. She pulls back and playfully smacks his chest.

“In your dreams, buddy,” she chastises softly. He waggles his eyebrows in that familiar way that makes her laugh and whilst she’s distracted, he swoops in and steals his kiss.

They break apart and Oscar starts wriggling in her arms to get down, so Tessa sets him on his feet between them and he immediately reaches up and takes each of their index fingers in his small hands, looking back up at Kaetlyn with a smile.

Tessa feels a bit bad for her new First Officer, who looks like she’s replaying every conversation they’ve had today to see if she missed something. She opens her mouth to ask the question that’s clearly on the tip of her tongue, but Scott jumps in to rescue her before she can.

“Don’t worry,” he says, offering Oscar the finger on his other hand so that he can step closer to Tessa and wrap an arm back around her shoulders. “She really is Captain Virtue; this isn’t some imposter. She’s Mrs Moir when she’s not wearing her uniform, though, and it’s become a bit of a running joke in the family. You’d think by now I would have learnt not to tease a superior officer, eh?” He chuckles and Tessa smiles at him.

Kaetlyn coughs out a nervous laugh in response, but the poor thing still looks utterly befuddled. 

“I’m sorry,” Tessa says feeling flustered now. “Kaetlyn, this is my husband, and former first officer, Scott Moir. Scott, this is my new first officer Kaetlyn Osmond.”

Scott removes his hand from her shoulder and offers it to Kaetlyn, exchanging a friendly handshake with her. However, Kaetlyn’s eyes flick back to her and Tessa swallows nervously as she undoes the buttons on her jacket and holds open the left hand side of it, revealing to Kaetlyn the two rings threaded through the large safety pin that’s pinned to the inside so it rests over her heart.

She relaxes as Kaetlyn’s expression softens and she smiles at her, feeling nothing but relief.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa starts to explain. “I… I like to keep things professional at work.”

“Please don’t apologise,” says Kaetlyn softly. “I totally get it.” Then, she reaches down and pulls a necklace from beneath the collar of her shirt, the chain of which holds a delicate and very pretty diamond engagement ring.”

Both women laugh then, and Tessa is comforted to find that she and Kaetlyn are even more similar than their flight together earlier had already demonstrated. She turns to smile at Scott too, but she feels her own face fall as she takes in the expression on his. He’s still smiling – Kaetlyn and even Oscar wouldn’t think there was anything wrong – but Tessa can detect the hint of a frown in his brow and the minute clench of his jaw. She goes to take his hand but he’s already reached around her to grab the handle of her carry-on, sighing in gentle exasperation as Oscar immediately jumps up to sit on it to get a ride.

“It was really lovely to meet you, Kaetlyn,” says Scott, and Kaetlyn nods in agreement. “But we need to get home to get ready to go trick or treating.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun,” she says. “I hope you have a great time!”

“Thanks,” says Tessa and Scott in unison, which, thankfully, leads to a boyish grin from Scott.

“Have a great evening, Kaetlyn,” says Tessa, reaching out to rest a hand on her first officer’s arm. “I’m looking forward to our next flight together.”

“Me too, Captain,” she says enthusiastically, before blushing a little at her eagerness. “And thanks for a great day. Bye Oscar!” She waves, and Oscar shakes his blanket back at her in farewell.

They’re both quiet as they walk towards the parking lot, though Oscar fills the silence with a rather ingenious rendition of ‘The Wheels on the  _ Bag _ ’, oblivious to the simmering tension between his parents. As they cross the road, she notices Kaetlyn waiting in the pickup area. A car pulls up right next to her and a tall, handsome young man jumps out and dashes around to her, scooping her up into his arms and twirling her around.

Her laughter carries across the noise of the cars and planes and Tessa smiles to herself, right as Scott’s hand finds hers and squeezes tightly.

She buckles Oscar into his car seat as Scott loads her suitcase into the trunk. His face is more serious when they get into the car, and she knows there are thoughts in his head right now that will need to be discussed when they get home. The guilt she feels must show on her face because he eyes soften a little and he reaches for her hand, gently kissing the back of it before shifting the car into reverse to back out of the parking space. He checks his mirrors carefully and freezes when he looks into the rear-view one.

“Oscar!” he cries out. 

Alarmed, she turns in her seat to see that their son is contentedly sitting in his car seat, swinging his legs, and experimentally stretching his tongue up to lick at the snot that’s coming from his nose. 

“Ewww, bud, use a tissue!” 

**

Things are as busy as ever once they get home and in the door. Tessa dashes off for a shower whilst Scott rustles Oscar up a quick dinner, mindful that there’ll be more food and sweets later, and he feels fairly proud to get a few portions of veggies into his son via the pasta sauce he’d made the night before. He’d already set the crockpot earlier to prepare his and Tessa’s dinner for when they get home later on, and it’s starting to steam gently, providing a pleasant ambient noise to go along with Oscar’s mostly off-key humming as he transfers a load of washing into the dryer, leaving Tessa’s work shirts to dry on hangers.

Tessa reappears not long after, dressed in just her bathrobe, hair scraped back messily to stop it getting wet in the shower, though a few tendrils have come loose and lie damp on her neck. He knows she knows he’s mad, and she avoids his gaze as she sweeps fully into the kitchen and sits herself down next to Oscar, gladly accepting a bite of his pasta and asking him how his day was.

He quickly puts the pans into the sink to soak and runs a cloth over the work surface before coming over to the table and kissing both of them on the cheek and making his way upstairs to grab a quick shower of his own, taking each step slowly as he listens to his two favourite people chatting away, each utterly intrigued by the happenings in the other’s day.

*

“I’ve left him to it,” says Scott as he returns to the kitchen a short while later, dressed casually in a faded pair of sweatpants and a ratty old hockey t-shirt. “He insisted he could do it all himself.” His raises his eyebrows, amazed and fearful in equal measures.

“He’s getting so grown up,” sighs Tessa. It feels like just yesterday that Oscar was a tiny baby in her arms and entirely dependent on them both.

“So,” Scott says, elongating the word as he leans back against the island, a glass of water in his hand. She knows she’s probably about to be reprimanded for earlier. “Kaetlyn seemed awfully surprised to see us today, Tess.”

Tessa hums noncommittally and continues to shred the cabbage for dinner, focussing harder than normal on the strokes of the knife.

“Almost like you didn’t mention that you were married and had a son.”

“It’s not that I…” she starts, but he stops her mid-sentence by snaking his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I know you don’t wear your rings at work,” he whispers. She puts the knife down and leans her head against his. “And I fully support why you choose not to. And, sweetie, I’m totally okay with you waiting to share that information with new colleagues until you are ready to.”

She sighs deeply,  _ here comes the but...  _

“But if you didn’t tell her about us two, then that means you didn’t tell her about this one either, huh?” His hands come to rest across her tiny bump that popped in just the last week. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” Tessa breathes, hanging her head, but also bringing her hands around to cover his. They’re dry from the rink and he’s chewed on the edge of one of his fingers until the cuticle as bled – a habit he seems to have developed over the last three years as he’s adjusted to no longer having the controls of an aeroplane in his hands. Their rings clink together on their joined left hands; her two white gold ones against his platinum.

She turns slowly to face him and is relieved to see an expression of loving concern on her husband’s face, rather than disappointment. He brings his hands up to cup her face before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Tess,” he chides lovingly, and she shrinks down into herself a smidge. “Come on babe, this is a health and safety thing. If she’s flying with you, she needs to know.”

“I know,” she whines. “It’s just…” she thinks about meeting Kaetlyn for the first time this morning in the pilots’ lounge; how her eyes were bright but a little fearful, how she looked so determined during the whole flight, and how, as they disembarked, she had turned to Tessa and told her what an honour it was to fly with her today, and she was very much looking forward to their next shift together. Scott’s thumb caresses her cheek softly, and she sighs and drops her gaze. “I just didn’t want her to think less of me because of it,” she whispers.

“Oh, T.” He takes her whole face into his hands and tilts her head so she’s looking up at him, she’s tired and emotional and she feels her eyes filling with tears. “T, you didn’t see her when Oscar ran into your arms earlier. Yeah, she was clearly a little taken aback, but the awe in her face, at  _ you _ , Tess. Trust me, she respects the crap out of you and, like me, she clearly thinks you’re an amazing woman.”

“Really?” she asks, seeing him wince at her doubt in herself before giving her one of his knowing looks and cupping her face with his hands. 

“Tess, you’re a badass airline captain. Second youngest in the history of Air Canada, I hear. And you’re the most wonderful mother, and that was abundantly clear earlier.” Her heart flutters at the sincerity in his eyes as he stares directly into hers, his hazel and gold irises sparkling under the kitchen spotlights. “And, she’s what? Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-four, actually,” she says with a small shake of her head.

“Twenty… Jeez! I’d barely been out of the simulator a month at twenty-four! What’s Air Canada feeding these kids?!”

She laughs. “Beats me, and there’s a dozen other like her knocking at the flight deck door.”

“Crazy,” he mutters.

She smiles as he leans in then and presses firm kisses to the apples of her cheeks and then a softer kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s a habit of his that Oscar has picked up on too, and it melts her heart completely when her baby places his (frequently inexplicably sticky) hands on her cheeks and kisses her in the same way too, though the little man always insists she does it in return as well, whereas Scott favours a nip underneath his ear.

So she does just that, and follows it up with a firm kiss to his lips, licking her way into his mouth, her blood pumping hot through her veins. The weariness of her first trimester had seemingly disappeared as soon as the tiny bump now between them had arrived, and she’d honestly thought about doing this all day, ever since her alarm went off, rousing them both from deep slumber, their son miraculously still asleep for the first time in months. Scott had looked so warm and sleep-rumpled and utterly fuckable as he’d pushed himself up to wish her both a good morning and goodbye; it had taken nothing but willpower and loyalty to her job not to push him back into the mattress.

She whines far more loudly and needily than is respectable as he pulls away from her a moment later. “Sco-ott,” she husks out, completely breathless. “Why…?” Scott scrunches his eyebrows, listening, so she quiets, and above the gentle rattle of the crockpot she can hear footsteps steadily coming down the stairs. She smiles at Scott’s look of concentration on his face, then watches as he raises three fingers, then puts them down one at a time before pointing at the door. 

And sure enough…

“I’m ready!” cries Oscar as he dashes into the kitchen, tripping over his feet a little where the carpet of the hallway turns into tile. Tessa stifles a giggle and brings a hand to her chest as she takes in the sight of her little boy. One of his trouser legs is stuck up around his knee, revealing bright yellow hockey socks on his feet. His shirt is mostly untucked and the buttons on the adorably tiny Captain’s jacket her mother made for him are done up wrongly. His hat is straight, yet his nearly shoulder length brown-blonde hair beneath it is anything but, slicked back with what she’s praying is water and scrunched and stuffed beneath the collar of his jacket.

She gets down on her knees in front of him and begins helping him to smooth himself out, gently telling him what needs fixing and how to do it. She peels off his socks and tickles his toes whilst Scott retrieves a more suitable pair from the laundry room. Once Oscar is suitably suited and booted Tessa adjusts his hat and asks him, “What’s going on with your hair, little man?”

“I wanted it to look like yours, Mama,” he says, his green eyes wide and adoring.

Tessa finds herself unable to speak then, her eyes filling with happy tears as she gazes at her son.

“Well we can help you with that,” says Scott, pulling up the little step stool they both admittedly need to use to reach the top shelves of the kitchen cabinets, and sitting himself down behind Oscar. He gently takes the hat off his head and balances it on his knee before getting to work on combing back his son’s hair with his fingers, all the while maintaining eye contact with her. 

_ See _ , he mouths at her with a wink.  _ Amazing. _

“I don’t think you’ve got quite enough hair to have a bun like Mommy does,” he says, smoothing Oscar’s hair back into a low ponytail and holding onto it whilst he peers around the kitchen counters for one of the hair ties that are always lying around. “How about a ponytail, hm? Would that be okay?”

His son thinks on this for a moment. “Okay,” he says eventually, nodding his head sharply and causing Scott to release his hair on instinct. “Oops, sorry Daddy,” he says, looking up at Scott.

“No worries, I need to find a hair tie anyway.” He makes to stand but Tessa interrupts him.

“Here,” she says, pulling the tie out of her own hair and passing it over to him. “I’ll need to use something different for my hair tonight anyway, because I’m not the Captain, now am I?”

“No, that’s me!” says Oscar, raising his hands. “Ouch Daddy.” He tries to reach back and rub at his head where Scott has just finished tying the ponytail and is pulling on both sides to tighten it a little.

“Well you’re not supposed to move when someone’s doing your hair, bud.” Says Scott, holding both his hands up and raising his eyebrows. “Just ask Mommy.” Her two special guys turn to look at her in unison, one eyebrow raised each in question.

“That’s right,” she giggles. She leans over to kiss them both on their foreheads before standing. “I’m going to go and get changed.”

“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” says Scott, as he stands and lifts Oscar up with him before sitting him atop the kitchen counter next to the dishwasher. She watches them as she leaves the kitchen, smiling as the two of them start chatting and Oscar passes him the dirty items to stack into the machine.

*

Scott leaves Oscar in the living room, happily pushing an assortment of cars and planes around on his road mat before dashing upstairs with his kit bag to get ready. When he enters their bedroom, he finds a very flustered looking (and very nearly naked) Tessa pacing back and forth in front of their mirrored closets, worrying her lip between her teeth, her arms folded tightly across her abdomen.

“Are you okay?” he says softly, rushing straight to her and bringing her to a halt with a gentle embrace, his heart pounding in his chest with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m pregnant,” she says, closing her eyes and grimacing.

Scott steps away from her then, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “Um, T. Please tell me you already knew that. Otherwise, I have a lot of questions about our conversation earlier, and the doctor and ultrasound appointments we’ve been to.”

“No, I know. But I got up here and I started to get changed and I just suddenly realised how pregnant I look today. And the tutu isn’t going to fit; it was a bit snug a couple of weeks ago when Lucia first lent it to me, no way will it work now.” She crumples into the chair and puts her head in her hands. “Plus, my boobs have decided to balloon today and the wires from my bras keep digging in, so all that’s comfortable is my crop top, but I can’t wear it with those leotard straps. I’m just going to look like a bloated, fat mess.”

“Those are definitely not the three words I would use to describe you right now, T.” He kneels down in front of her and takes her hands in his and she squeezes his fingers tightly. Needily. He takes stock of the tension in her shoulders and crease between her eyes, thinks back to the flush on her cheeks when she had returned from taking a shower earlier, as well as the way she’d stopped and looked at him for a second longer this morning before she left, with that heated gaze that usually leads to things that end in the best way possible for both of them. 

Now he knows what she needs.

He leans forwards, her legs opening so he can get closer to her. Her body is radiating heat and he runs his lips up her sternum and along her collarbone towards the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She lets out a needy whimper as he presses the softest kiss there, before sitting back and running his hands down her torso and hooking his fingers into the band of her underwear. Her hips move upwards swiftly to allow him to remove the soft cotton thong.

“Do you know what three words I would use to describe you?” he whispers, looking straight up at her, nearly coming undone by how dark and desperate her eyes are right now. He decides she needs to be put out of her misery. 

“Really.” He leans forwards and kisses the inside of her right thigh.

“Fucking.” The left.

“Beautiful.” He tilts his head to press the softest kiss to the tiny bump, eyes flicking back to her as she lets out a quiet sob, which soon turns to a guttural moan as he licks a stripe right up the length of her.

*

He rests his cheek on the inside of her thigh as she regulates her breathing, enjoying the way she’s running her fingers through his hair and across his scalp. He raises his eyes and finds her looking at him, cheeks still flushed a pretty pink, but eyes soft, looking relaxed and satisfied.

“Hi,” he says softly. “Better?”

“Much,” she breathes out, bringing her hand down to cup his chin, pulling his face towards her as he rises up on his knees. He quickly wipes his hand across his mouth before closing the distance between them. She kisses him deeply, her hand inching down to palm him through his sweatpants. Despite putting all of his concentration into getting her off, he’s still half hard in his pants, and if Tessa keeps going, they’re going to end up in a sticky situation.

“Later,” he husks out, pulling away from her and standing up, smirking at her look of disappointment. “We need to get going.”

“Okay, but I owe you one,” she says sultrily as she floats into the bathroom to clean herself up.

He gets himself dressed in his full kit (excluding the bits that really smell and should only see the light of the locker rooms and hockey rink) and starts to rummage through the bag of ballet clothes Lucia (who had taught Oscar’s ‘Pliés and Pacifiers’ dance class) had kindly lent to Tessa. 

His wife returns from the bathroom a few moments later with an elegant bun far higher on her head than he’s used to, and soft makeup that accentuates her eyes. She looks breath-taking and he tells her so, but her smile in response soon fades when she eyes the leotard and tutu hanging in the corner.

“Don’t freak out,” says Scott, jumping up and over to her to try and stave off the stress he had so successfully (if he does say so himself) got rid of earlier. “I’ve been through the other ballet clothes and I think I’ve found an alternative.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay?” he checks, and she nods. “So, I found this cardigan and this skirt.” He holds up a cropped, black knitted cardigan and a ruby red chiffon wrap skirt. “I figured the cardigan will cover your bra straps and this skirt will be more comfortable?” She continues to nod along. “And, I mean you don’t have to, but you’ll probably wear your coat for the actual trick or treating, right? It’s a bit cold out to wear only this.” More nodding. “And then, maybe, when we get to my parent’s house, we can just tell them about the baby when you take your coat off?”

Her eyes widen, but in a good way. “Oh Scott,” she says, sounding excited now. “Yes, that’s perfect. It will be a great reveal. I know we were going to wait and tell everyone all together next weekend at our anniversary party, but this would be lovely. Oh, I know exactly how to tell them!” She’s buzzing with energy now and Scott can’t help but smile dopily at her.

“Wonderful.” He kisses her swiftly on the forehead. “Now put some clothes on, pretty lady, we’ve got trick or treating to do and a son downstairs who needs to be in bed on time.” He waggles his eyebrows at her before turning and running for the bathroom, but not before she manages to swat him on the ass.

“Brush your teeth!” she calls after him.

*

Tessa is busy tying ribbons around her ankles (having opted for a pair of regular flat shoes over traditional ballet slippers that would get ruined by the damp sidewalks) as Scott does his utmost to convince their son not to take his blanket trick or treating with him tonight. They’re doing fairly well at weaning it off him – he’ll happily leave it at home when they go to the rink now – but Tessa is keen for him to only have it at night by the time the new baby arrives. She doesn’t want to have to deal with possessiveness, or any tantrums when it inevitably gets scooped up accidentally with a load of laundry. 

She’s impressed by her husband’s ability to tie on his hockey skates whilst retaining eye contact with their son, though she’s shaking her head and internally wincing at the thought of him spending the whole evening walking around in them. Apparently, Mr Coach-of-the-year had lost a bet with his Junior Timbits team that he could do a lap of the rink wearing one figure skate and one hockey skate. Tessa supposes she should be glad that he’s not on crutches right now; she’ll take him moaning about blisters in the morning for that small mercy. 

“Mommy doesn’t take her blanket onto the plane with her, does she bud?” Scott asks, and Oscar shakes his head, though the frown on his face remains. Scott stands, towering over his son even more in his skates, takes the blanket gently from him and begins to fold it up. “We’ll fold it up all neat and tidy, and we’ll leave it right here on the couch, okay? Then when we get home, we can take it up to bed, deal?”

“Okay Daddy,” Oscar sighs, his lips quirked in a way that tells them he’s not really convinced by the idea. But Tessa will settle for her son pulling faces rather than a straight up tantrum; she’s counting this as a major win. 

“Did you know I keep one of his baby hats in my flight bag?” she asks her husband quietly after Oscar has turned his attention to the pair of wings that Scott has just retrieved from the box in his night stand (a box which also contains a diamond-studded eternity ring ready for next weekend) and proudly pinned to the lapel of his tiny jacket. His captain’s hat – a baby shower gift from some of the Pearson ground crew – slips forwards as he bows his head to fiddle with the shiny metal.

“I did,” Scott responds softly, pulling her close again and resting his hand on her curving waist. “Did you know I swap it out every now and then with one from his dresser so that it still smells like him?”

Her head whips around, a look of dawning realisation in her eyes. “I thought I was going mad!” She lightly smacks him on the arm, and he chuckles. “Last time I had an overnight in Ottawa I got it out before going to bed and spent about 20 minutes trying to work out if it had always had ears sewn to it.” She brings her palm to her face and shakes her head, “I’m such an idiot.”

“What’s an idiot?” asks Oscar, appearing at their feet and looking up at them with his hat askew, clutching the handle of the plastic pumpkin he’s hoping will be filled with candy later.

Scott raises his eyebrow at her, a smug smirk on his face at knowing for once that it’s not  _ him  _ making his son’s vocabulary more colourful. Tessa blushes and is quick to change the subject. “Right, we should leave now!” She bends down to Oscar’s level and straightens both his hat and his pin before kissing the tip of his nose, making him giggle. “Are you ready to go trick or treating, baby?”

“Yeah!” cries Oscar, raising both hands in the air.

**

The contents of Oscar's plastic pumpkin bucket rattle and rustle as he runs up the path to the next house – a lovely, turn-of-the-century detached building with pale blue painted wood panel cladding, a beautifully maintained front yard, and a wrap-around porch that Tessa has been envious of since the three of them moved into this street a few months ago. She and Scott have only met their neighbour once; bumping into her on one of their rare afternoons alone together as they were taking a stroll around the neighbourhood towards the end of the summer, Oscar off spending the night with her mother on the other side of town so they could have a date night (which ending up being quite a productive evening…).

She can see Mrs Ennis, the house's elderly owner, waiting for them in her doorway, happily sitting in a camping chair with a blanket over her legs and a big bowl of candy in her lap. She's done a lovely job of subtly decorating for the holidays; with her plant pots adorned with plastic spiders and skulls on sticks and a row of simply carved pumpkins sitting on the steps up to the porch.

Tessa takes Scott's hand as they amble down the path, happy to let Oscar run ahead of them to their final house, a great success considering he started the evening rubbing sleepily at his eyes and reluctant to be out of Scott's arms. That is, until he realised that he would need to be in order to help himself to treats. She hears Scott chuckle softly as they watch Oscar negotiate the steps whilst holding onto the bucket's handle with both hands, and she covers her eyes when he nearly tips the entire contents out by accident.

By the time their son has made it safely to the top of the steps they've caught up with him and Scott crouches down to be on the same level as both Oscar and their elderly neighbour. Mrs Ennis bends forwards to speak with Oscar, who is greedily eyeing her bowl of candy, and he plasters on his biggest smile in the hopes that will get him extra treats. Tessa shakes her head and raises her eyebrow at her wily almost-four-year-old, thinking to herself that he definitely gets that from his father, though the man in question turns to look up at her wearing a similar expression, accusing her of the exact same thing. So instead she waggles her eyebrows at him and smirks and he chuckles quietly to himself, before pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand where it’s come to rest on his shoulder.

“Now what’s your name young man?” asks Mrs Ennis, and Tessa is relieved to see her son’s attention switch from the candies to the woman speaking to him.

“Oscar,” he says without a hint of shyness – a trait he most certainly  _ did  _ get from the man next to her.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you, Oscar,” she says. “Or should that perhaps be  _ Captain  _ Oscar?” Her little boy nods exaggeratedly, looking delighted that someone has recognised his costume properly – now  _ that  _ he definitely got from her! 

(He had not been impressed earlier when the father of a boy from his play group had asked him if he was a train driver and her precocious and whip-smart son had given him a detailed explanation of the features of his hat and jacket that clearly showed him to be an airline pilot. Scott had offered the man an apologetic look, meanwhile Tessa had hidden her proud smirk by adjusting the hem of her skirt, before slipping an extra piece of candy into Oscar’s plastic pumpkin.)

“I love your costume,” she exclaims, glancing up at Tessa and grinning, and Tessa remembers that she did mention her job to Mrs Ennis when they first met. “Is that what you want to be when you grow up? A pilot?”

“Yeah,” says Oscar, nodding enthusiastically. “I wanna be like Mommy.”

“Well that’s wonderful, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll do just that one day.” Oscar beams at her. “And I’m sure your mommy and daddy will help you do that.”

“Oh, for sure,” says Scott, wrapping his arm around Oscar’s waist and squeezing him close. “We are very supportive of this career aspiration.”

“It’s definitely a better than the one this time last year,” reminisces Tessa.

“Oh my gosh, yeah,” says Scott, chuckling.

“What did he want to be last year?” enquires Mrs Ennis.

“An aeroplane,” they say in unison.

Mrs Ennis laughs along with them, looking positively tickled by that information. She then holds out the bowl to them.

“You two should take a piece each as well, otherwise I’m going to have far more left over than I should think about eating!”

“Are you sure?” asks Tessa, her hand hovering over the bowl.

“Of course, I’m nearly done for the evening too. I need to warm up before Jeopardy starts!”

At that they both dive in, Tessa grabbing a mini packet of Jolly Ranchers and Scott opting for a fun-size Mars Bar, which she already knows will end up forgotten in his skate bag for months.

“Thanks Mrs Ennis,” says Tessa, gently placing her hand on top of hers. “We’ll see you very soon. Now I better get this pilot and this hockey player back to Granny’s for hot chocolate.” She raises her eyebrows at her boys and they both look thrilled by the prospect.

“Oh, wait, dear,” Mrs Ennis grabs onto her hand. “I haven’t seen your costume.”

Tessa smiles nervously as she straightens up and slowly undoes the zip on her winter parka, then pulls the sides apart to reveal the full outfit to her. The woman gives her a knowing smile. 

"You look absolutely beautiful my dear. I think that maybe you deserve  _ two  _ candies?" She winks at her and Tessa feels herself blush as she reaches for another bag of the Jolly Ranchers.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, my dears," Mrs Ennis says in farewell. Tessa smiles widely at her, then prompts Oscar to say thank you and goodbye, and he waves cheerily from where he's perched on Scott's back.

They make their way back down the path, turning to wave at Mrs Ennis one final time before turning towards home. “Alright team,” says Scott. “Are we ready to head to Granny and Grandad’s for hot chocolate?”

Both Tessa and Oscar nod enthusiastically. “Yes please, my toes are freezing,” she says, hopping from one foot to the other and making the little boy giggle.

“Ugh, my feet are killing me,” he groans as they reach the car and Tessa lifts Oscar off his back and takes his pumpkin bucket from him as he scrambles up into his seat.

“No comment,” she says, biting her lip to stifle her laughter.

“Jokes on you, Virtch. I can’t drive in these!” He lifts up one foot to indicate their predicament.

Tessa rolls her eyes and grabs the keys for the truck from him. She’s never really liked the thing; always quite glad she kept her little Acura to run herself around in most of the time. She rarely drives his car, and she huffs and puffs a little as she gets herself into the driving seat and starts adjusting it to her driving position.

Scott fiddles with the heating whilst she’s doing this, then gets his phone connected and music starts blaring from the speakers. It sounds like an old style Hollywood score meets Spaghetti Western.

“What on earth…” she begins, but is interrupted by both Scott and Oscar beginning to sing.

_ “Up, down, flying around _

_ Looping the loop _

_ And defying the ground...” _

She must look startled because Scott begins laughing at her whilst Oscar continues to sing along, oblivious.

“It’s from ‘Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines’,” he explains.

_ Ohhhh _ . She nods and starts to laugh herself.

“He’ll fall asleep on the drive over otherwise.”

“Oh yeah, good thinking!”

(Oscar Moir 101: don’t wake the kid if he’s sleeping, he’ll sulk and then hold onto you like a koala for a good hour afterwards if you do!)

“Alright then, my magnificent men.” She throws him a wink. “Let’s go!”

*

It’s only a 20-minute drive out to Ilderton, but by the fourth repetition of the song she’s starting to lose the will to live.

“Please tell me there’s something else on that playlist, Scott.” She glances over to him, desperately.

“On your head be it, Virtch,” he warns, tapping his phone until Frank Sinatra’s silky voice fills the car. Fortunately, Oscar claps in delight from the back seat and chooses, mercifully, to quietly hum along to this classic.

“I’m sensing a theme in this playlist,” she says, dryly.

“Have you met our son?” Scott deadpans back.

She laughs for a moment before slowing to a stop as the Uber in front of them double parks and drops out its passenger. When it doesn’t move after a few moments, Tessa puts her indicator on and begins to manoeuvre around it. Scott sucks in a breath as she drives through the narrow gap between the Uber and the parked car on the other side of the road.

“What?” she squawks.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, putting his hands up defensively.

“You made a noise.”

“You were just a little close to the Uber, is all.”

“There was plenty of space, Scott,” she reasons, trying not to get annoyed at him. She knows he means well.

“This car is just a little bigger than what you’re used to driving.”

“Scott,” she slows right down so she can turn to look at him in the eye. “I’m used to driving an  _ aeroplane _ !” She shakes her head and begins to laugh at him.

**

The front door is unlocked when they arrive, so Scott lets the three of them in, slipping quickly out of his own coat and sighing as Oscar wriggles away from him when he tries to unbutton his little jacket.

“No Daddy, I need this on!”

“Alright, but you’re going to get hot and sweaty,” Scott warns, but Oscar merely shrugs and hurriedly pulls off his shoes so he can go into the living room.

“Hang on a second, wait for Daddy.” Tessa just about grabs him by the sleeve before he can go zooming off, then gets down on one knee in front of him. Scott watches the soft exchange between them, always in awe at the power Tessa has to hold someone’s eyes as she speaks to them, their young son no match for her dazzling green gaze. She slips an envelope into his bucket and says, quietly, “This is for Granny and Grandad. Can you go into the living room and find them and say, ‘do you want to see my treats?’ so that they get it?”

Oscar purses his lips in thought. “Do I have to give them my candy?”

“You know it’s kind to share, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says.

“Maybe if they ask nicely, then they can,” says Oscar, diplomatically, and Scott chuckles from the stairs where he’s sitting and finally removing his skates.

They enter the living room together and Oscar gasps in excitement at seeing his cousins and is ready to make a bee-line straight to them when Scott taps his shoulder and reminds him of his mission.

“Hello, dears,” says Alma as she enters from the kitchen and hands a mug of hot chocolate to Charlie. “Do you need to warm up, Tess? I can put the fire on?”

Scott notices Tessa pull her coat a little tighter around herself as if to play along with the excuse, though he actually suspects she’s quite glad of the warmth right now.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” she replies with a smile.

His mother is clearly about to return to the kitchen for more hot chocolate when Oscar appears at her feet. “Granny, Granny. Do you want to see my candy?” he asks sweetly, holding up his bucket with both hands, proudly.

“Of course I do,” says Alma, bending down to peer in the bucket and pausing when she sees the envelope with her and Joe’s name on it. “Oh, is this for me?” she asks, removing it from the bucket with a glance at him and Tessa.

Alma opens the envelope carefully, her expression curious and her fingers shaking a little. Scott wonders if she maybe suspects what's contained within the square bit of paper. She gasps as soon as she slides the ultrasound picture out of the paper and looks straight to them, her eyes shining with tears.

"Really?" she asks, a little breathlessly, reaching out for Joe's hand. Scott's starting to feel a little choked up himself at her reaction, so he just nods and smiles widely at them.

“We were going to wait until next weekend,” says Tessa as she unzips her coat and Scott helps slide it off her shoulders. “But I didn’t really want to wear my coat all night.” She shrugs and smiles shyly as she turns so she’s in profile and Joe and Alma can see the small bump. 

"Oh, my dears!" She rushes over to them and hugs them both, followed closely by Joe, who turns to hug him before kissing Tessa's cheek.

"How far along are you?" his mother asks, her voice thick with tears, wiping them away from her eyes profusely.

"14 weeks," Tessa replies, her own eyes shining now and close to causing Scott to cry too. "So, I'm afraid you're going to have four of us for Canada Day."

"That'll be perfect," Alma says, softly, folding her daughter-in-law into another, longer hug, both women wiping at their eyes.

Oscar is glancing between his mother and grandmother, a look of growing concern on his face. He wanders over to his grandfather and reaches up to tap him on the thigh. “Grandad,” he says, voice quiet. “Grandad? Granny is upset. Is she okay?” He sticks a couple of his fingers in his mouth, a nervous tick when his blanket isn’t around.

Joe immediately bends and picks him up, cradling the boy’s fair head with his hand. “Oh, no, buddy. It’s okay, everything’s fine.” He looks Oscar right in the eye. “We’re all very happy, not sad at all.”

“Promise?” Oscar asks, seriously, looking over at his granny to be sure. Alma quickly dabs at her eyes with her sleeve one final time and smiles at him in reassurance.

“Everything is great,” she says. “I promise.”

Oscar holds out his bucket, which he is still clutching onto. “Do you want a candy, Granny?” he asks. “To feel better?” Scott, Tessa and Alma all bring their hands to their chests at his kindness.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” She reaches into the bucket and pulls out one of the LifeSaver mints, then tucks it into her pocket as she kisses his forehead. “Now, shall we go and get some hot chocolate?”

“Yeah!” Oscar practically growls, with an urgency that would make anyone believe he hasn’t been fed or watered at all today. He slips down quickly from his grandfather’s arms and takes Alma’s hand, trotting happily alongside her into the kitchen as he tells her about all the planes he saw earlier.

**

Oscar is fast asleep later when Scott carries him into the house, snoring softly against his shoulder and with a candy wrapper still clutched in his fist. Together they carefully remove his costume and get him into his pyjamas – a soft cotton pair with retro bi-planes on them. They kiss him goodnight as they tuck him into bed, and he mumbles something unintelligible as he sinks into his pillows and pulls his blanket up under his chin.

As Tessa retires to their room to remove her makeup, Scott runs downstairs and turns off the crockpot, and transfers the contents to another dish to cool – full enough tonight from the hot chocolate and blueberry scones his mother had made, and, frankly, hungry for something else. He locks the front door and switches off the lights before returning upstairs.

The bedroom is dark when he enters it, with only the gentle glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the room. His breath catches in his throat when he sees Tessa sitting back in the chair by the closet, completely naked and waiting for him. His mouth drops open as she acknowledges his presence by meeting his eyes and bringing her hands to roam across her body.

She raises one shapely eyebrow. “I think I have a debt to repay?” 

Dumbstruck, he merely nods his head in eager agreement.

“Take you clothes off, Moir,” she says, spreading her legs, her hand making its way lower and lower…

(Let it be known for the record that Scott Moir never disobeys his captain’s orders.)

*

Later that night they lie tangled in bed together, his clothes discarded in a heap by the closet and the sheets in a rumpled mess at their feet. Tessa has just drifted off in his arms, having more than returned the favour from before. He runs his hand gently through her hair, which is wavy as always from being up in a bun, as he holds her close. He relishes these moments; intimate and peaceful, silent but for steady breathing and beating hearts.

Carefully he stretches over to turn of the bedside lamp, smiling to himself (as he often does) as he catches sight of his tattoo; the trail behind the little paper plane now snaking further down his wrist, picking up two hearts on its journey. He makes a mental note to contact the studio to arrange a third to be added next summer as he pulls up the blankets and snuggles closer to his wife. He synchs his breathing with hers and quickly drifts off into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of deep blue skies dotted with soaring white and red aircraft, their puffy white contrails wending their way home to him.

  
  



End file.
